The 3,651st Day
by MissKiriChan
Summary: Doumeki and Watanuki finally have 'the conversation.' Yes, that conversation; the one that we've all been dying to hear. Alternate ending to xxxHolic, follows life after Doumeki confesses. DouWata. Filled with a great deal of angst and happiness. Ongoing.
1. Chapter 1

With _xxxHolic_ coming to an end soon (my soul has not yet recovered) and no indication of 'the conversation' between Doumeki and Watanuki on the horizon, I decided to write that conversation myself.

This is my first _xxxHolic_ story and my first (published) fan fiction, which is filled with angst, romance, DouWata, tears, (did I mention angst?), and hopefully something that will make you smile.

* * *

_Empty. _

_He felt so empty._

He looked at the shop, barely noticing the passersby who whispered about him, wondering why such a handsome young man was staring at an empty lot.

"Maybe he's looking to buy the land?" a teenage girl whispered to her companion.

"Maybe as a gift to his wife?" the companion whispered back.

"I hope not," the first girl giggled. "Then he wouldn't be available for the rest of us!"

At that, both girls surrendered to a fit of violent giggling. Doumeki only noticed them after they nudged his briefcase when they stumbled by him, still giggling with abandon.

He didn't care. He was too tired to care.

He continued to stare at the shop, knowing that the sun was about to set. He could turn around now, he told himself. He could skip tonight and see what happened.

He felt his head shake slightly, knowing he wouldn't. His dinnertime visits were the only thing keeping Watanuki from shutting him out completely. If he stayed away, even for a night, Watanuki might decide that he preferred a Doumeki-free life.

He stared at the wall surrounding the shop and ran a hand through his hair, delaying the inevitable night of forced conversation and emotional defenses.

And he dealt with it—Watanuki's rage, despair, and secrecy. The three had become familiar companions during the past ten years.

But things had changed recently. He wasn't content with a one-sided role in Watanuki's life anymore. He wanted—_needed—_more. He prided himself on being strong and dependable, but he was dangerously close to having nothing left to give.

That, and the minute he stopped being strong enough to withstand Watanuki pushing him away, there was no telling what Watanuki might do.

He stepped forward, feeling the familiar combination of grocery bag and briefcase bump his thigh. He managed to take a shallow breath, preparing for the lively bombardment of what Watanuki had aptly dubbed 'The Trouble Trio.'

He shifted his briefcase and the grocery bag as he reached over the gate to unlock it from the inside. After hearing a subtle click, he gently nudged the gate open and walked the familiar path, sliding open the porch door before calling out his usual greeting.

"Tadaima kaerimashita," he said, removing his polished work shoes before stepping into the shop.

"Doumeki-kun!"

He heard Mokona, Moro, and Maru shout his name in unison, and felt Moro and Maru gently clutch his pant leg as they chanted, "Watanuki, Doumeki's here," until Watanuki finally emerged, a thin trail of smoke following him like a ghostly snake.

He glanced at Watanuki and noticed that he was wearing one of his more subdued outfits today. Only a small glimpse of calf was visible before it melted into the heavy fabric of the kimono.

Watanuki took a long drag from his pipe before blowing smoke his direction. He did his best not to cough on the musty fumes as Watanuki looked at him disinterestedly.

"Oh. It's _you_." Watanuki turned around and walked out of the room, calling out behind him, "don't I keep telling you to use the _front_ door?"

He didn't respond, instead handing over the groceries wordlessly to Mokona.

Maybe it was from his many years with Yuko, but Mokona was extremely observant, knowing instinctively when something was wrong. Instead of screeching about the kind of snacks or Sake he had brought today, Mokona looked up at him questioningly.

He patted Mokona on the head gently, saying "later," soft enough so Watanuki couldn't hear. Mokona started to nod but jumped when Watanuki's voice boomed through the shop.

"Dinner!" Watanuki shouted, sounding slightly irritated. "Somebody," he continued, "is just lucky that I _happened_ to make extra!"

There is was again, the feeling of tiredness under his skin. Extra? Hadn't he been coming to dinner _every night_ since Watanuki had been locked in his beautiful prison?

He stared blankly in the direction of Watanuki's voice until Moro and Maru started prodding him, eventually dragging him toward the porch, their laughter echoing through the shop.

When they reached the porch Watanuki was already sitting down, gazing out at the sunset.

Watanuki didn't say anything when he saw them, instead making a disgruntled sound when they sat down, showing his displeasure that Doumeki had held up dinner.

He didn't bother saying sorry, as that would only provoke Watanuki, deciding to utter a hurried "Itadakimasu," instead.

He didn't even look at the food before he raised his chopsticks to his lips. For the first time he could remember, he really didn't feel like eating one of Watanuki's meals. He wanted nothing more than to sit alone and collect the thoughts swirling around his head before they overtook him.

He glanced at Watanuki, noticing that Watanuki was making a special effort to avoid looking at him.

Was he really that repulsive?

Not that he put much stock in it, but other people—his colleagues, students, and even visitors to the shrine—didn't seem to find him disgusting.

And, not that he thought it meant much, but he had received dozens of Valentine's Day gifts in February. While he was certain that many of them were simply obligation gifts, he couldn't be _that_ unlikable. Only to Watanuki.

While he seemed to be blessed with overall fortune in most areas of his life, he would give them all away to have the one person he cared for _like_ him. Not even in a deep and abiding kind of way. The absence of Watanuki's hatred toward him would be a gift in and of itself.

His thoughts were screaming so loud that he was afraid his dinner companions could hear them. But no one looked up from their food; they ate in silence, awkwardness stretching across the porch like the encroaching twilight.

He tried to eat, but each bite tasted heavy in his mouth, like a plaster that was halfway dry. He drank three cups of tea, hoping to force the food into his stomach, but gave up after feeling his stomach lurch unsteadily.

He set down his chopsticks next to his unfinished food and stared at the smattering of fireflies that had come out in the semidarkness. The silence continued unbroken, save the clattering of dishes as Moro, Maru, and Mokona cleaned up. Their cheeriness was nowhere to be found as they looked between him and Watanuki with wide eyes.

They didn't come back after finishing the dishes, and Watanuki didn't call for them.

He noticed that Watanuki was sitting rigidly, not settling comfortably across the porch like he did most evenings. He snuck a glance at the table and noticed that Watanuki's usual sake container was nowhere in sight.

He could hardly believe it; how many years had it been since he'd seen a liquor-free Watanuki at dinner?

He opened his mouth to comment on this strange new phenomenon, but a look from Watanuki stopped him. The way Watanuki looked at him was… gentler, somehow, and both eyes were glowing faintly in the lantern light.

"Was it..." Watanuki began, before clearing his throat, "...was it not good?"

He looked at him, confused.

"What?"

"The food," Watanuki responded. "Was the food not good?"

He had forgotten about not finishing all of his food.

"No, the food was very good. Thank you." He inclined his head toward Watanuki in thanks.

"But you didn't finish it," Watanuki responded quietly.

He found it strange that Watanuki had noticed, much less commented on the fact that he hadn't finished dinner. But now that he thought about it, tonight _was_ the first time he hadn't finished one of Watanuki's meals.

"I was… distracted." He gave a small bow. "The food really was delicious. I'll make it up to you by bringing a bottle of your favorite sake over tomorrow."

Watanuki smiled and responded with a barely audible, "I see," before looking out at the garden, staring at the freshly bloomed flowers. He stared at them intently for nearly a minute before fixing his gaze back toward the table.

Watanuki's next words came out slowly, deliberately, like he had practiced them for a long time. He continued looked at the middle of the table, as if he couldn't bear to meet Doumeki's eyes.

"Who is she?"

Time stood still. He felt a ringing in his ears and his vision blurred with something he could only classify as rage.

Watanuki looked up at him, his eyes unusually bright as he waited for a response. Doumeki clenched his fists under the table, trying to keep his anger in check.

"What girl?"

What the _hell_ was Watanuki talking about?

Watanuki fiddled with his tea cup and continued, his voice quieter than usual.

"You don't have to hide it anymore. You've been more and more preoccupied the last few months."

Watanuki moved from his cup to the tea pot, turning the lid nervously.

"You're even saying _thank you_." He tried to make it sound like a joke, but his voice wobbled. "You don't have to keep coming here every night, you know. I understand that you have a life of your own, and..."

His hand was shaking. He didn't know it was possible to be so angry.

"Stop." It came out as a scarcely contained growl.

"Stop what?" Watanuki paused mid-sentence, looking at him expectantly.

"Do you," he tried to keep his voice steady, "_really_ think so little of me?" He glared at Watanuki, feeling the space behind his eyes blaze with intensity.

Watanuki waved his hand absentmindedly. "What do you _mean_ think so little of you? I mean, it's normal, isn't it? After all, you're almost 30 and…"

Before he knew it his fist had hit the table.

"I. Said. STOP." He watched his knuckles turn white as his fist struggled to stay in one place. He tried to stay calm, but found himself shouting before he could stop himself.

"Have the last 10 years shown you _nothing_?" He hit the table again, making his tea cup jump with a small ceramic clattering. Watanuki looked at him like he was some kind of demon that had awakened in the newly risen moonlight.

He knew Watanuki was afraid, but he had to keep going. He had to say the words that had been threatening to choke him.

He looked pointedly at Watanuki, his voice returning to a low growl. "Do you _still_ think that I do this out of obligation? That I decided to throw my life away because I felt like it was a fucking good idea at the time?"

Watanuki looked at him, speechless.

And why wouldn't he? He'd never opened up to Watanuki like this. He had always practiced balance and discipline. But he couldn't do it anymore. He was empty. _He was breaking_.

"And do you," he said, starting to shake, "think that I've _liked_ being hated by you all these years? That I _like_ being told, day in, and day out, that I mean _nothing_ to the person I care most about?"

He couldn't stop. It was all rushing out of him like a river desperately trying to flee into the ocean.

"Don't you get it?" He finally looked at Watanuki—really looked at him, like his life depended on it. He took in the ageless face of the person he had adored for nearly half his life and knew that he would lose him forever if he didn't swallow the words clawing at his throat.

But he had to tell him. He _had to_.

"You…" He faltered as he felt a tear hit his hand. Then another.

"You…" he looked at Watanuki, silently saying goodbye before the next words came rushing out.

"…are my Yuko."

He immediately covered his face with his hands, ashamed to hear how pitiful he sounded.

Watanuki didn't respond, but he felt Watanuki staring at him, waiting for an explanation. He took a shaky breath and continued, still unable to look at Watanuki as he spoke.

"You are the most important person in my life, Watanuki—the one that I will never," he felt more tears come, "ever be able to reach."

He kept his face in his hands and began to sob. It was like years of grief were being emptied into the warm summer night air. He had never known what it was like to cry—to really cry—because he had never let himself. The only time he had let grief wash over him was when his grandfather died. But even then he had held back. Even then he had tried to be impossibly strong.

He didn't look up after he finished crying. He didn't want to. He didn't want to see the disgust plastered on Watanuki's face. But he knew that he had to. He couldn't put off the inevitable forever.

He finally uncovered his face, removing one hand, then the other, prepared for the hate he would find staring back at him.

But he didn't find hate. He didn't even find the slightest inkling of disgust. Instead, he found Watanuki, perfectly still, with silent tears falling from his mismatched eyes.

"I'm…" Watanuki started, before his voice trailed off until it was too quiet to hear. "I'm… so…" but he choked, crying too hard to finish.

Before he realized Watanuki had stood up, he felt a pair of thin arms wrap around his shoulders.

"I'm so sorry, Doumeki," he said, laying his head on his shoulder. "So very, very sorry."

It was as if he had just stepped into a dream. He felt warm in a way he hadn't felt since he was a child. And for the first time since he had met Watanuki, he didn't feel alone. He didn't feel Watanuki pushing him away. He knew that Watanuki was right there with him, no walls between them.

Watanuki stayed like that for a long time, his soft black hair rustling in the gentle summer wind. Thousands of moments passed before Watanuki finally looked up at him, his face inches away.

Watanuki looked as if his heart was breaking. There was pain etched into the non-existent lines on his delicate face. He said his next words with difficulty, like tears were threatening to overwhelm him again.

"I'm sorry Doumeki… but I don't feel that…"

His heart fell. He knew they were coming, but he knew the words would rip into his heart like a thousand shards of scrap metal. He stopped Watanuki before he could continue, not sure he could bear to hear the rest.

"I know. I know you don't." He gently shrugged Watanuki off of his shoulders.

"No," Watanuki looked at him, fresh tears pooling in his eyes, "I don't think you do."

He looked at Watanuki, feeling raw, wanting nothing more than to slip into a sleep that would last until the end of his life.

"Watanuki…"

Watanuki put a hand on his forearm, quietly begging him to listen. He gave a curt nod, staring past Watanuki's shoulder.

Watanuki took a deep breath and continued.

"Doumeki, I… I don't feel that way about Yuko."

He looked at Watanuki sharply, sure he was hearing things.

Watanuki stared intently at the embroidered sleeve of his kimono.

"I don't feel that way about Yuko. She is," Watanuki looked up at him timidly, "one of the most important people in my life, but not in the way that you think."

He grasped Watanuki's willowy shoulders and waited until he was looking him in the eyes. He tried to keep his voice steady, but felt like he was choking on his own words.

"Say what you mean." He shook Watanuki slightly, tears starting to blur his vision.

"Say what you mean…" His grip softened. "Please…" he whispered, looking pleadingly at Watanuki

Watanuki sat up and put his hands in his lap, fidgeting nervously.

"What I mean is…" He inhaled sharply and looked at him with unblinking eyes.

"It's not Yuko, Doumeki. It's you."

He said it again, a slight blush taking over his cheeks.

"It's _you_."

A sudden gust of wind filled the silence while they looked at each other, unsure of what to do next.

Watanuki was the first to speak, starting to sound more like the self-deprecating teenager he had been ten years ago.

"I don't expect you to believe me. In fact, I wouldn't blame you if you hated me." He saw Watanuki's fists clench open and shut as he continued.

"But it was all I could do… I mean, you're out there, in the world." He flung his arm in the direction of the street, as if to emphasize his point. "And I'm here. I'm _always_ here."

Watanuki looked helpless as he continued, starting to sound panicked. "I mean, I can't go anywhere with you. Can't be like a normal person. I thought it was only a matter of time until you got tired of it—of _me_—and left."

Watanuki looked at him, wild-eyed, his voice getting louder with each word.

"No one can be that perfect Doumeki, no one!" He saw Watanuki start to tremble despite the warmth of the evening. "Especially," he whispered, "especially not for someone like me."

There was no wind to fill the silence this time; only a slight buzzing of fireflies who hadn't been scared off by Watanuki's yelling.

He didn't know what to say. It was as if all his words had been used up.

So he didn't say anything.

He stood up and reached out his hand to Watanuki. He pulled the younger man up into a fierce embrace and held him tight.

He wasn't sure why he hadn't realized it before: Watanuki was always desperately afraid of being alone. First his parents, then Yuko… even Himiwari and Kohane had drifted away, tugged by the growing responsibilities of adulthood. Watanuki had probably been waiting for him to leave, wondering when he would disappear like everyone else.

He held Watanuki a little tighter, wishing words could be enough to reassure him that he wasn't going anywhere—ever. But he knew they wouldn't. No words could bridge a wound that wide.

He released Watanuki from his embrace and took a step backward, a shy Watanuki hesitantly meeting his gaze.

"I just want you to know," he put both hands on Watanuki's shoulders, "that you will never be alone, because I will always, _always_, be here."

Watanuki started to respond but he put a hand over his mouth.

"I'm not asking you to believe me. All I'm asking is that you don't push me away anymore."

Watanuki gave a slow nod, looking like a child who was attempting to be brave.

"Good."

He found Watanuki's hand through the sea of Kimono and gave it a gentle squeeze. He looked behind him, not surprised to find six eyes staring out at them from the shadows.

"Why don't I go get some snacks?" He said, noticing that his tone was back to its normal monotone. "I think our company is hungry."

He saw the realization register on Watanuki's face as it turned a shade of deep pink. Watanuki immediately started to scramble after Mokona, with Maru and Moro, calling out various threats about food rationing.

But before Watanuki chased the trio inside the shop, he looked back and mouthed the words, "thank you," before disappearing after his prey with a grin.

He listened to their revelry for a minute before walking down the porch steps toward the street, opening the gate soundlessly. He didn't bother to lock it; he was pretty sure that _this time_ Watanuki wouldn't shout at him for not using the front door.

* * *

I originally intended for this to remain a oneshot, but I don't think I'm ready to let go of these characters. Expect some adventures (and misadventures) from them in the future as they navigate love, living with the Trouble Trio, and getting into alternately humorous and angsty situations.

I want to mention and thank the absolutely amazing support of my close friend and beta for this story, Faren Maddox. (You can find here here under **UnexpectedInspiration**.) She helped make this story shiny and suggested the title for it. She is an absolutely fantastic writer, so if you have a pulse, please go check her stuff out. It will make you laugh, cry, and rage, wondering why CLAMP isn't following her story lines instead of their own.


	2. Chapter 2

_Thank you SO very much to all of you who reviewed the first part of this story! I am honored that you took the time to read my story and then took the time to review it! I know that time doesn't exactly grow on trees—and if it does, please tell me where—and the fact that you took time out of your day to do so means more than words can say. _

_I'm still very new to everything Fan Fiction, so if there's something I'm doing right or wrong, please don't hesitate to (kindly) let me know. _

_I know that I took a longish break between the first part of the story until now (my heart was seriously __that__ broken by CLAMP's ending of xxxHolic), but I will be updating regularly from now on. A new chapter will be posted every week and a half to two weeks, or more frequently if I can manage. _

_Thanks so much again. Enjoy!_

_**Disclaimer**: xxxHolic isn't mine. Though you already knew that, didn't you. ;) _

* * *

Watanuki stretched, wondering why he had woken up so early. He fumbled around, trying to reach his glasses when he felt his arm brush a body-sized lump. He froze, about to scream, when everything came rushing back to him at once.

His conversation with Doumeki the night before.

Telling him that he could stay the night.

Hearing Doumeki say goodnight before he slipped into a warm sleep…

He blushed, secretly happy that Doumeki couldn't see his face as it turned an even deeper shade of red.

He glanced at Doumeki, still breathing softly, and noticed that he looked stoic even in his sleep. But he also looked… gentler, somehow. More inviting.

Watanuki found himself instinctively reaching toward him, his hand hovering cautiously in the space between them. He finally surrendered, tentatively exploring his features, his fingertips trying to memorize the high cheekbones and soft eyelashes, moving slowly, trying not to miss anything.

He hadn't know that touching another person could be so calming, his fears seeming to shrink with each stroke across Doumeki's face. It was somehow reassuring to feel the solidness of Doumeki in front of him. It made him feel more real–as if he wasn't going anywhere.

He moved to the top of Doumeki's head, tentatively playing with the glossy brown hair, watching it stand on end after he twirled it between his fingers. He felt like he could touch it forever.

He paused, suddenly overcome with the realization that he had wanted to do this for the past ten years. He had pushed it down, deep inside himself, but the desire had always been there. If he was honest with himself, not a day had passed where he _hadn't_ longed to be close to Doumeki.

Tears started to prick the corners of his eyes as he thought of all the time he had wasted, berating himself for not overcoming his fear sooner. But the scariest part, the thought that absolutely terrified him, was that if Doumeki hadn't been the one to say something, he never would have. He would have watched Doumeki go to his grave without ever having told him how he felt. But that wasn't going to happen; not now. Now they both knew where the other stood, and he had the opportunity to make things right.

He brushed a stray lock of hair from Doumeki's forehead, his thoughts drifting to the night before. The image of Doumeki surrounded by fireflies was burned into his memory. And he could still remember Doumeki's words, almost as if he were listening to them on replay.

In that surreal space of time, he had finally stopped fighting and had stopped trying to push Doumeki away. He had finally allowed himself to believe that Doumeki meant what he said when he promised that he wasn't going anywhere.

He looked out the window and saw the sun start to peek over the windowsill, the newly risen rays dancing across the floor as the trees swayed outside. A funny sensation crept into the pit of his stomach as he realized that, for the first time since he had been confined to the shop, he didn't feel alone. There was no place he'd rather be than watching Doumeki sleep in the quietness of the morning.

He continued to look out the window as he played with Doumeki's hair, absentmindedly wondering what he should cook for breakfast. He was considering the best way to ask Doumeki about breakfast when he felt a strong grip seize his wrist.

"Oi!"

Doumeki glared at him, eyes wide, looking as if he was ready to kill someone. He felt shock rush over him and let out a small sound of pain before the grip around his wrist loosened.

He stared, wondering if the angry-looking man in front of him was really the same one he had seen the night before. He tried to speak but felt the words catch in his throat. His body went rigid as he watched Doumeki blink groggily and look around the room, finally turning to look back at him, expression blank.

"I'm sorry," Doumeki said.

Rage, hurt, and a sickening feeling of despair fought their way through his heart. He didn't want to accept what he had just experienced; he didn't want to believe that Doumeki felt such revulsion at being touched by him.

He started to shake as memories of the night before rushed past his eyes. Had it all been some kind of twisted joke? Had this—had he—been some kind of game to Doumeki?

Tears started to pool at the bottom of his eyes, and he tried desperately to keep them from falling. He wanted nothing more than to get as far away from Doumeki as he could.

"It's okay," he answered, trying to sound as normal as possible as he inched off the bed. "I was just about to go and make break…"

He felt Doumeki gently grab his hand, careful to avoid his now-throbbing wrist.

"Watanuki…"

He spit out the words before he could stop himself. "If that's how you feel about me touching you, I'll..." He wrenched his hand out of Doumeki's grasp, still struggling to get away from the bed. He took a stumbling step forward only to feel himself pulled back as a strong set of arms wrapped around his torso.

He felt himself crash backward, landing somewhere between Doumeki's lap and the bed. He tried to struggle free when he heard Doumeki, voice low, apologize again.

"I'm sorry, Watanuki." He continued to struggle, even hitting Doumeki in his attempt to break free. But Doumeki wouldn't let him go. Instead, he continued to talk over his thrashing. "I'm sorry, Watanuki; I'm not used to having people touch me."

Watanuki expected him to say more, to explain, but was met with nothing more than the sound of steady breathing, each puff warm on the back of his neck even as he continued to kick, trying desperately to break free. He opened his mouth to scream at Doumeki, to tell him to go to hell, when realization hit him, stunning him into silence and stopping his thrashing mid-kick.

He knew what it was like to be alone. It was the feeling that haunted his every waking moment and tormented his dreams. He had lived his life with the millstone of loneliness around his neck, secure in the knowledge that no one, save Yuko, could understand the aching pain of being alone as the world passed by, oblivious. But he realized with sickening clarity that he was wrong; Doumeki _also_ knew what it was like to be alone.

After his grandfather had died, Doumeki didn't _have_ anyone to tuck him in, to hug him, to tell him that they loved him. Watanuki wasn't sure _where_ Doumeki's parents were, much less if they were still around, but he knew they had never cared or been there for Doumeki. In some ways, that was worse than having your parents die. To have parents that were still alive but chose to ignore or abandon you, like you were some kind of nuisance they couldn't be bothered with, was a pain almost unimaginable to him. Even when he hadn't remembered his parents, he always felt secure in the knowledge that they had loved him.

And, if he was honest with himself, _he_ was the other reason Doumeki knew loneliness. Doumeki had spent nearly half his life taking care of him, and what had he done? Pushed him away, again and again and again. Doumeki could have left, could have found someone who actually appreciated who he was, but had chosen to stay with him—even if it meant he was damned to a life of being shut into a one-sided box where he could see the person he cared for, but never touch him.

He felt shame overtake him, realizing that he'd been a complete jerk. _Of course_ Doumeki would feel scared and awkward about having another person touch him. Especially if that person was him. He wouldn't be surprised if Doumeki was wondering when he was going to return to his normal self, shutting him out again, treating him like he meant nothing to him. He felt nauseous, realizing the disgusting self-conceit it had taken to think that _he_ had made the great sacrifice in finally trusting Doumeki. If anything, it was the other way around.

He put a hand on Doumeki's arm, wanting to say everything that was echoing through his mind, but was unable to find the words. He decided to take a cue from Doumeki and keep things simple, hoping that Doumeki would hear the words he _wasn't_ saying.

"I'm sorry, Doumeki."

He looked down, admiring the strength in Doumeki's arms as the muscles twitched nervously. He continued, his words coming out in a rush. "I just got… scared. I was afraid that you hated me." He stopped, still ashamed of himself, and wondered how Doumeki could put up with him, much less _care_ for him.

"I know," Doumeki replied, squeezing him softly to let him know that he really _did_ understand. He felt another light squeeze around his waist before Doumeki started to untangle his arms and move back toward the headboard.

"Wait," he said, turning so he could face Doumeki. He was rendered speechless when Doumeki met his gaze.

While his face looked calm, his eyes were giving everything away. His worry, his fear… they showed that Doumeki was just as terrified as he was. Why had it taken him so long to realize it?

"Your eyes," he said softly. "They're…"

He leaned toward Doumeki before he realized what he was doing, feeling his lips press something soft. He was surprised to feel the softness tentatively press back.

It took a moment before he realized what was happening. His initial response was panic, but somehow it felt right, like each of them had been made for this moment.

He placed a hand on the back of Doumeki's head, holding it there while his lips continued to press gently against Doumeki's. He felt Doumeki softly draw him nearer, his calloused fingers finding their way through his hair uncertainly.

They stayed there, barely moving, each of them too shy to do anything more than have the faintest meeting of lips. He felt himself blush when they finally broke away from each other.

"I'm sorry," he started, "I wasn't planning on doing that, it just seemed… to happen." He snuck a glance at Doumeki, feeling the heat rise in his cheeks.

"Doumeki?" He suddenly felt alarmed. Maybe it had been too much too fast. He held his breath, waiting for Doumeki to shout at him. But Doumeki didn't shout; instead, he shook his head, a faint smile trying desperately to conquer the corners of his mouth.

"I've never done that before," he finally said, unable to meet his gaze.

He thought that if Doumeki was capable of looking bashful, it was the way he looked right now—like he was a third grader who had just confessed to his crush and was afraid of rejection. If it hadn't been a disturbing thing to say, he would have gone so far as to call Doumeki adorable.

"Me either," he answered, playing with an embroidered part of the bedspread. "But I'd like to try it again sometime… if you're up for it, that is," he added hurriedly, feeling uncomfortably warm.

"I'd like that," Doumeki said, the smile almost winning its battle as the corners of his mouth tilted slightly.

"Good," he answered, suddenly feeling giddy. "But there's one more thing I have to ask you," he said with mock-seriousness.

"Oh? And what's that?" Doumeki asked, his eyebrows arching a fraction of a centimeter.

"What would you like for breakfast?"

"That," Doumeki replied seriously, "is one of the most wonderful questions you have ever asked me."

"Don't act like I'm your wife!" he shouted before heading toward the door, a foolish grin plastered across his face. It had been long—far too long—since they had joked around like this. He had missed it.

If the contented look on Doumeki's face was anything to go by, he had missed it too.

* * *

He watched Doumeki eat breakfast and couldn't help but smile as he ate with his usual gusto, requesting second helpings within minutes.

Instead of feeling perturbed by this, like he had always pretended to be, he was actually grateful; it was nice to have someone to take care of. Because while he loved Mokona, Moro, and Maru, it wasn't quite the same.

As they made small talk over the remnants of their breakfast, he realized just how much they had to learn about each other. Since most of their discussions the past ten years had revolved around little more than the shop, Doumeki's schooling, and Yuko, he felt like Doumeki was half stranger, half the boy he had known in high school. He had the feeling that he had changed as well, though he hoped that some of who he used to be still lingered. He decided to ask about the idea simmering in the back of his mind before he could think of how Doumeki would answer.

"Would it be okay," he asked, trying not to sound nervous, "if I got to know you better?"

Doumeki blinked. "What?"

"I mean," he said, trying not to sound like a complete idiot, "that we could talk about our lives, ourselves, and…" He looked over at Doumeki sheepishly before continuing, "where we want our lives to go. In the future." He felt his face turn a furious shade of red.

Doumeki gave him a slow nod and took a sip of tea.

"Great! Um…" he nearly cringed, hating the fact that he sounded so eager. He had a feeling that Doumeki found it amusing, but he didn't say anything, instead making a suggestion.

"You can ask first, if that makes it easier."

He nodded at him, grateful that he understood. It was times like these he was sure Doumeki knew more about him than he let on.

He took a deep breath and started to ask all of the questions he'd secretly hidden in his heart; he wanted to know everything there was to know about Doumeki Shizuka.

And Doumeki didn't disappoint. While his answers were short and succinct, he answered every question set before him, no matter how deep or uncomfortable. It was through these answers that he found out what it was like for him to grow up in a shrine, about his illness as a child, and why he had decided to go into archery.

He also learned more about the role that Haruka had played in his life, and how he had been the person to shape Doumeki into the man he had become. He'd have to remember to thank Haruka the next time he saw him, though he couldn't help but feel a little nervous at the thought of telling him about the new phase of his and Doumeki's relationship.

He shook his head slightly, determined to worry about that only when the time came. He wanted nothing more than to enjoy the scene in front of him: Doumeki, sitting straight as a board, pouring out his life's story. It was surreal. Getting two sentences out of Doumeki was usually a challenge, and here he was, spouting paragraphs. Monotone paragraphs, but paragraphs nonetheless.

He couldn't help but smile to himself as he realized just how much Doumeki resembled a samurai, almost as if he had stepped straight out of textbook. Maybe it was his upbringing in the shrine, but he had an air of ancient things about him, with a fierce sense of justice and loyalty that was rare to find even in the most honorable of people.

But he couldn't he couldn't help but think that it was more than his upbringing in the shrine that made him the way he was. If there was anything that Syaoran's travels had taught him, it was that people, no matter what world or time they were born into, had certain qualities that made up their soul. Usually those qualities were the same, no matter where or when a person was born. And there was something about Doumeki that was simply _good_, in the purest sense of the word. Just being around him was reassuring.

Doumeki's stream of dialogue was interrupted when Mokona jumped on his head unceremoniously, wailing about starvation. He felt mildly annoyed at having his time with Doumeki interrupted, but decided that it was about lunchtime anyways. He told Doumeki he'd be back soon and walked into the kitchen, rustling through the cabinets to see what he could make for lunch.

Mokona bounced around the kitchen, singing a made-up song about manju buns when he finally caught Mokona by the ears and looked him in the eyes.

"Mokona?"

"Yes?" Mokona answered nervously, knowing that he was most likely in trouble.

"I'd like to make a deal with you."

"A deal?" Mokona asked innocently, failing to hide his excitement at not being in trouble.

"Yes. A deal. One where you, Maru, and Moro leave me and Doumeki alone for the day…" he reached behind him, grabbing his bartering chip off the counter. "In exchange, I'll give you this."

His eyes lit up like a New Year's parade.

"Okay! You have a deal!" He struggled to reach the bottle, but Watanuki deftly moved the bottle further from his reach.

"Are you sure you can do it?" he asked, trying to sound as serious as possible, though it was difficult to keep a straight face when Mokona's flailing looked so hopelessly ridiculous.

"Yes! I promise!"

"Okay…" he answered, handing the sake over to him. "But if you break your promise, there will be consequences." Watanuki gave him what he hoped was an imposing look and let him go.

"Now get ready for lunch. I'll bring it to you three and you can eat it out on the porch, okay?" He started to cut a stalk of celery. "And don't forget… _the whole day_." Mokona nodded, running greedily out of the room with the sake bottle propped precariously on his head.

He sighed, but knew that as long as sake was involved, Mokona would stay true to his word.

* * *

After taking lunch to the Trouble Trio, he came back to the dining and found Doumeki deeply engrossed in an old looking book.

"For work?"

"Yeah," he answered, marking his place with when he saw that lunch had arrived.

Watanuki settled in across from him and handed him a plate of sushi and an empty cup for tea. Doumeki set both down gently, saying a polite "itadakimasu" before pouring both of them some tea and commenting on how delicious the food looked.

He mumbled a quick, "you're welcome," before digging into his own sushi, still not sure how to handle it when Doumeki said things like thank you.

He was just about to ask about more questions about Haruka when the sound of Doumeki's voice stopped him.

"Can I learn more about you, too?" Doumeki's eyes were soft as he looked at him.

Learn more about _him_? He felt sick. He had gotten so caught up in learning about Doumeki that he had completely forgotten that he'd have to talk about himself. He tried to avoid talking about _himself_ as much as possible. It was easier that way—less painful, less confusing.

Doumeki was looking at him intently, like he could see right through him.

He felt his elbow bump the wasabi and watched the green flecks spill out onto the table, almost as if they were moving in slow motion. He looked at Doumeki and nodded, feeling panicked. His chest felt tight, and he started to pull on the sleeve of his kimono so hard he was afraid it would tear.

"Watanuki? Watanuki?" He heard Doumeki's voice like it was flowing through water. It sounded sluggish and distorted.

"Yeah," he answered dreamily, trying to take a deep breath. "I'm okay; I'll be right back…" He got up from the table, his heart feeling like it would jump out of his chest. He walked toward the kitchen, drawn by the familiarity of it.

He leaned over the sink and tried to throw up, hoping it would calm his nerves. But he wasn't able to. It felt like his stomach was made of stone.

He splashed water on his face, unsure of why he felt so afraid. Doumeki wanted to know about him… it was only natural, right? After everything Doumeki had shared with him, it was only fair that he shared in return.

He shook his head, trying to stop thinking of it in terms of price or exchange. The truth was that he _wanted_ to know about him, in the same way he had wanted to know about Doumeki.

But that made it even more difficult. Even if Doumeki did want to know about him, he had so little to tell. There was so little that he remembered. Even his high school years with Doumeki were fuzzy. Most of the time he felt like an empty shell that was floating through existence, waiting to stumble upon an identity.

He felt a fresh wave of nausea overtake him. He leaned over the sink, praying he could purge his fear and wash it away. But nothing happened. He could feel desperation clawing its way through his fear, screaming at him to do something. He looked around the kitchen, feeling dizzy from panic.

And then his eyes fell on the liquor cabinet.

His shoulders sagged with relief as he took down two bottles of his best sake. He felt himself twitch with anticipation as he opened the first bottle, wondering why he hadn't thought to do it sooner. It was usually how he started his day.

He felt the liquid rush down his throat, burning it. He coughed and took another swig, continuing to drink until he had finished the entire bottle, thankful for their petite size. He started to hear a light buzzing sound as he opened the second bottle, hoping that Doumeki wouldn't choose that moment to come looking for him.

He took a large gulp from the lip of the bottle, suddenly ashamed. He had a feeling that Doumeki wouldn't like it, if he knew. But it was the only way. He looked at the bottle bitterly before taking another swig.

He hated to admit it, but the harsh liquid had become a necessity the past ten years. It had had helped him endure the painful mistakes of learning to run the shop, and had eased the pain of watching his loved ones drift away. It had numbed him. It had allowed him to push away his problems, almost convincing him that they didn't exist.

But no matter how much he drank, the problems always came back the next day, pounding on the side of his consciousness, trying to surface. They screamed at him, reminding him that he didn't remember. Taunting him. Telling him that if he really cared, he wouldn't have forgotten. Telling him that he was unworthy of love if he was going to forget about the people he was important to.

He swallowed, feeling a small amount of alcohol trickle down the side of his mouth.

But Doumeki had drowned out the voices last night. Doumeki's voice had been louder, rung truer, than the voices screaming in his head. He had believed Doumeki like he had never believed anything in his life. That was why he _needed_ to do this. For Doumeki. He didn't have much to share, but he wanted to share what he could.

But he needed the voices to go away to do that. And the only way they would go away was if he silenced them for the afternoon.

He finished the second bottle and set it down on the counter, feeling as if he was moving through gelatin. He walked toward the living room, feeling like he was going to war.

* * *

He saw Doumeki sitting at the table, his food untouched. Doumeki looked up as soon as he saw him.

"You okay?"

"Yeah," he lied, feeling like a robot as he sat down. "I just had to make sure that those three were okay… you know how they get." He laughed, but realized that it sounded hollow. He picked up his chopsticks and tried to eat, saying slowly to Doumeki, "I don't remember much."

"I know," Doumeki replied evenly. "Just tell me what you do remember. But don't push yourself."

Not push himself? Doumeki _really_ wouldn't like it if he found out about the two empty sake bottles in the kitchen.

"S-sure," he answered, his heart beating fast. He didn't want to sound foolish, so he plunged into his earliest memory—or what he thought was his earliest memory, anyways.

"I remember two arms… they were very warm, and I felt very safe." He noticed that Doumeki was sitting very still, paying close attention to his every word. "I think—well, I can only suspect—that it was my mother or father." He felt his muscles start to loosen as the alcohol worked its magic. "Even though I know who my parents are now, I still don't have many memories of them. Only feelings, really."

Doumeki nodded, still looking at him.

"Mostly, I remember being on my own." He felt the familiar pang of loneliness sweep over him. "No one ever came out and said anything, but I knew that they all wondered about me. That they thought I was strange." The feeling of loneliness got stronger. "They probably thought I was cursed. That I had done something to _deserve_ being alone." He felt the loneliness shift into something different, something closer to despair. "And you know what, they were right!"

He realized that it wasn't working; the alcohol wasn't working. The voices were starting to emerge again. They had been a whisper a moment before, but now they were yelling, screeching the familiar refrain that it was all his fault.

He started to rock back and forth, putting his hands to his ears. "Stop. Just stop!" He continued to rock, feeling like his head would split open. He felt Doumeki's presence next to him, but instead of reassuring him, he felt himself lash out, too hurt to care that he was doing the exact opposite of what he had set out to do.

"And you… why are you still here!" Part of himself tried to stop the words that were crashing out of his mouth, trying to halt the flow of words before saying something he would regret. "Do you think there's something wrong with me too? Do you pity me?" He glared at Doumeki, his anger finding a convenient target. "That's right… that's why you're still here, isn't it? Isn't it!" Doumeki looked at him and didn't answer.

"So that's what gets you off, huh? Poor little Watanuki is all alone, and you figured that you could come and cure me, make it all better, huh?" He started laughing, surprised when he felt something wet hit his forearm. "Well, you had better run; there's no telling what will happen if you stay with me. You'd better get out of here before I kill you too!"

He stopped, realizing that he had said it. He had finally said it—his greatest fear. The fear that if Doumeki stayed with him, he would die too. He started to sob, crying so hard that he could barely breathe. He felt a gentle touch on his shoulder but slapped it away, rocking back and forth, the pain and the alcohol twisting him until he couldn't think straight.

The rocking stopped, only to be replaced with a nervous twitching. "You probably hate me now, don't you? Don't you?" he screamed. He covered his face with his hand. "It's okay. You can leave. Save yourself before I do something to you too."

He didn't say anything for a minute before answering. "Watanuki, you've been drinking." He felt Doumeki suddenly scoop him up, and he could see the ceiling swim above him.

"Put me down!" He hit him in the face _hard_, knowing that the last thing he wanted was for Doumeki to be nice to him. "I said _put me down_."

Doumeki moved his face, trying to dodge the sharp flailing of his hands. "I _am_ putting you down. In the bedroom where you can sleep this off."

Watanuki tried to scream at him, but felt tears overtake him again. The only thing he could think of as Doumeki gently deposited him on the bed was how much he had screwed up—again.

"Doumeki, I..."

He felt a warm hand clamp over his mouth.

"Go to sleep. We'll talk when you get up."

He tried to argue, but felt a fuzzy blackness coming to claim him.

The last thing he remembered was a warm hand encircling his before the blackness finally won.

* * *

_This chapter was definitely full of angst, but things will be much better next chapter! :)  
_

_I should also note that as this story takes place ten years after Watanuki was stuck in the shop, he's going to act a little differenly than he does in _xxxHolic_ or even in _Rou_. I will keep him as in-character as possible, but one of my goals with this story is to show a great deal of growth in Watanuki, Doumeki, and their relationship. _

_But I just have to say, many MANY kudos and sparkles of gratefulness go to Faren Maddox (**UnexpectedInspiration**) for looking this story over and providing me with the feedback I so desperately needed. She cleaned up the weak spots and made it much more awesome overall. _

_She is amazing, so if you heart CLAMP or Harry Potter, please take the time to check her stuff out!_


	3. Chapter 3

_Thank you SO very much to all of you who have reviewed and/or added this story to your favorites or alerts. I know that the chapters have been slow in coming (pesky life *shakes fist angrily*) but I am excited to continue this story and bring even more bouts of both DouWata angst and happiness! _

_As always, I do not own _xxxHolic, _or its characters. (Though I do have a Mokona plushy. *whee*)_

_Thanks so much again for taking the time to read this. Enjoy! _

* * *

"Idiot," he muttered under his breath as he held the clammy hand in front of him. Though he wasn't sure if he was directing it more at Watanuki or himself, since he had no doubt that Watanuki had, in some twisted way, done this for him.

He looked at the crumpled form on the bed and felt nausea claw at the pit of his stomach, angry with himself for not keeping a closer eye on Watanuki. He should have _known_ that he would do something like this. He was always sacrificing himself to try and make others happy, not realizing how much he was hurting those he loved by throwing himself away so recklessly.

He scooted the ornate chair he was sitting in closer to the bed, worried by the way that Watanuki's face had suddenly started to twist in pain. While it could have been from the alcohol, he had a feeling that his terror stemmed from something much darker.

He covered his good eye to see if the one he and Watanuki shared would reveal anything, but it was blank—just as it had been for the better part of 5 years.

He had never confronted Watanuki about it, but he had worried when the shadowy figures had faded from his vision. It meant he was less able to protect Watanuki, and proved that Watanuki was willing to sever the bond between them without hesitation.

He continued to watch Watanuki, his hair now plastered to his forehead in thin black lines, and wondered if Watanuki still felt that way. Maybe it was naive, but he had hoped that the night before had proved to Watanuki that he could trust him, that he wasn't going anywhere.

But maybe things hadn't changed as much as he had hoped. Maybe it was foolish to think that one day made up for ten years.

Doumeki shook his head, realizing that he needed room to think before his thoughts spiraled out of control. It wouldn't do him or Watanuki any good if at least one of them wasn't thinking rationally.

He gave Watanuki's hand a soft squeeze, gently placing it at the younger man's side before heading toward the door and into the hallway.

He walked down the familiar corridor until he reached the only part of the shop he had avoided for the better part of ten years. He paused, feeling his body tense instinctively as his hand reached for the door.

It gave way easily, and he found the room in front of him largely unchanged. What appeared to be trash and treasure alike mingled on tall shelves and oddly shaped tables. It was a little dustier than he remembered, but it was as if he had stepped back to a simpler time where the future still seemed full of hope and possibility.

He found a portion of unoccupied floor space and sat down, leaning his back against a set of drawers with jagged handles. He almost welcomed the pain as the sharp edges pressed against his skin, thinking that physical pain would be a welcome distraction from the thoughts racing through his head.

He wasn't sure how long he sat there reminiscing about the past. Meeting Watanuki. The days spent with Yuko. Yuko disappearing. Watanuki falling apart. He had taken it all in stride, telling himself that everything would work out and that dwelling on the negative wouldn't get him–or Watanuki–anywhere.

But maybe, if he was honest with himself, it had actually been avoidance. Maybe he hadn't wanted to _deal_ with any of it, choosing instead to hide behind the carefully created facade of being able to handle anything.

He lifted his head toward the ceiling and closed his eyes, listening to the stillness, trying to put some of his training at the temple to use. He focused on his breathing, trying to empty his mind of everything but the present moment. Each time a thought tried to invade, he turned it away the same way he would an intruder. He needed to achieve peace not only for himself, but for the man down the hall who was depending on him.

He soon felt a gentle calm replace his racing thoughts. He was in control again. Or at least, he wanted to believe he was.

"Doumeki?"

He looked up, then down, as he realized the voice was coming from Mokona. He stood in the doorway, a small shadow stretching out softly behind him.

"Oh. Hello Mokona."

Doumeki watched as the small black creature hopped toward him, never failing to be amazed at what appeared to be a live stuffed animal moving freely about the shop.

"It's been awhile, hasn't it?" Mokona looked around the storeroom. "Since you've been in here, I mean."

Doumeki nodded slowly.

Mokona turned his half-lidded eyes toward him and spoke in a tone removed from his normally cheerful demeanor. "Anything on your mind?"

He should have known. Mokona noticed everything.

"You could say that."

He felt a small ball of warmth touch his leg as Mokona settled in next to him.

"Anything you want to talk about?" Mokona asked, looking up at him seriously.

Doumeki shook his head. "Not really."

Mokona nodded and didn't press the issue.

"Where are Moro and Maru?"

"Sleeping."

"I see."

He and Mokona sat in companionable silence, neither one feeling the need to say anything. It was one of the things that Doumeki appreciated most about the small creature; Mokona never felt the need to fill the silence with unnecessary words. He, like Doumeki, understood that silence wasn't always something to be afraid of.

While Doumeki normally would have been content to allow the silence to stretch out until one of them became tired or hungry, he had something he needed to ask.

"Mokona?"

"Hmmm?" Mokona answered as if he was half-asleep.

"Do you ever miss Yuko?"

There was a long pause before Mokona finally answered, his voice suddenly sounding as it was coming from very far away.

"Yes. I do. I'll always miss her." Doumeki heard a small intake of breathe before Mokona continued.

"But what hurts most is the fact that she hasn't been allowed to rest in peace. Watanuki carries her around like a ghost, keeping the memory of her chained around his neck."

Mokona began again, sounding close to tears. "I want to remember her the way she was, Doumeki. Full of life, until the very end. But I can't anymore. My memory of Yuko has been replaced by what her absence has done to Watanuki."

Realization settled cold and heavy on Doumeki's shoulders. He had always known, in the back of his mind, that Yuko's disappearance hadn't just affected Watanuki, and by extension, himself. But to hear the pain it had caused Mokona so honestly...

He patted Mokona's head, unsure of how to respond. What Mokona had said was true: Watanuki, far from honoring Yuko in his desire to bring her back, had done just the opposite.

And, if Doumeki was honest with himself, he had to admit that he was also part of the problem. He had _helped W_atanuki; indulged him. Played the "poor Watanuki" game for the better part of a decade, always there to listen and comfort him about Yuko's disappearance. Not once had he told Watanuki to get over it, to move on, to be stronger. To be the kind of man that Yuko would have wanted him to be.

Doumeki held out his hand and Mokona climbed up without hesitation, tears glistening at the bottom of his eyes.

"Mokona..." He raised his hand so that he and Mokona were looking eye-to-eye.

"I'm sorry. The blame for this falls on me."

Mokona started to protest, but Doumeki just shook his head.

"I made a commitment. To myself, to Yuko, that I would look after Watanuki. That I would help take care of this shop." He continued, hoping that Mokona would be able to understand what he was trying to say.

"You, Maru, and Moro... you are all a part of this shop. I _want_ to take care of you. All of you. But I'm not doing that if I allow Watanuki to continue hurting you like this."

"Doumeki..."

In an instant, Doumeki felt Mokona's fuzzy arms wrap around his neck. He patted the soft black fur and felt infinitely grateful to Yuko and Clow for creating Mokona.

"I don't know how to fix this yet, but I will. I promise."

Mokona nodded, his long ears suddenly less droopy.

"I'm going to the grocery store. Want anything?"

Mokona's ears perked up mischievously. "Anything?"

"Anything" Doumeki answered, glad to see that Mokona's mood had improved slightly.

"Well..." as Mokona started to rattle off a list of expensive goods that were out of season, Doumeki stood up and headed toward the doorway. He gave the storeroom one last glace before he closed the door, not sure if he would be seeing it again anytime soon.

After all, some things were best left in peace.

* * *

_And... that's all for this chapter! A bit shorter, I know, but our beloved Doumeki isn't the most loquacious of fellows. _

_Next chapter is from Watanuki's perspective, so expect more emo contemplation and what I have come to call "Wataflailing." (Get it? Because he flails a lot? *crickets chirping* Okay, so maybe I'm not very clever...) _


	4. Chapter 4

_Thank you to all of you who have been so incredibly kind and encouraging about this story. It has been a rough year, and updates have been sporadic, but I appreciate all of you being so understanding, and it makes me want to work that much harder. _

_Specifically, I want to give a quick shout-out to _**ryutaro**_. Thank you SO very much for your kind words, and I absolutely agree: fan fiction does exist to give readers what they long for that doesn't always happen in canon. While it will be a bit of a bumpy ride, I __**promise **__that these two will indeed have a happy ending. :) _

_Also, a quick clarification, as someone had brought it up. Watanuki isn't stuck in the shop right now by choice, and I apologize if my story made it come across that way. I will however, be addressing that issue later on in the story, so stay tuned. ;)_

_As always, the characters are not mine, though I would like to believe that Mokona and my cat would be grand friends._

* * *

Watanuki woke hours later, just as the sun was starting to dip into the landscape. He faintly remembered being mad at Doumeki, but couldn't recall why. He shook his head, quickly regretting it as he was met with the familiar calling card of too much sake.

Why had he been drinking? The last thing he remembered was having lunch with Doumeki, and Doumeki asking him some questions…

His train of thought was interrupted with what felt like live fireworks going off in his temples. He held his head in his hands gingerly until the fireworks subsided to a sputter.

He needed to find Doumeki, and quick. Something didn't feel right, and he wasn't sure if he had the strength to remember it on his own.

He didn't have to go far, as he heard the calm rumble of Doumeki's voice seconds after swinging his shaky legs over the side of the bed. He followed the unchanging tone to the guest bedroom, where he found Doumeki calmly reading a book of fairy tales to Mokona and the twins.

Doumeki looked up as soon as he entered the room and paused mid-sentence. Something _was_ wrong. Even though the older man's expression remained as placid as ever, there was something he was holding back. He looked at Watanuki for a long moment before the inevitable interruption occurred.

Mokona tugged on Doumeki's arm, trying to pull his attention back to the book. "Doumeki—don't stop! We have to find out what happens to the princess!"

"The princess; the princess!" Maro and Maru echoed with their shrill voices.

He knew it was just the sake magnifying their already earsplitting voices, but he felt tears prick the corners of his eyes as pain shot through his skull.

Not wanting to let on about the pain, he waved his hand and said, as calmly as he could, "go ahead and finish the story or we'll never hear the end of it Doumeki."

His companion nodded, still giving no indication of what was wrong, but seeing hesitant to continue.

He did, however, resume his reading after a few more energetic tugs from the twins and Mokona.

Watanuki considered leaving, knowing his headache would thank him for it, but he decided to stay, sitting down on the bench at the foot of the bed and listening as Doumeki's unwavering voice rumbled off the walls of the room.

"So the witch locked the princess away and told her father and mother that she was dead."

"No!" the twins and Mokona shouted in unison.

"At first the princess tried to call for help, but she realized that no one could hear her. She soon became hoarse from shouting and lost her voice."

"Not her voice!" Mokona cried, snuggling closer to Doumeki.

"So the witch came to her, saying, 'drink this potion. It will help you regain your voice.' The princess, too tired to realize that the witch was lying to her, drank the potion, eager to restore her voice in the hopes that someone would hear her crying out.

But the witch was clever as well as evil. She had given the princess a potion that would rob her of her memory, so she could no longer remember her parents, and could no longer remember she had been kidnapped."

As he listened to the story, Watanuki felt a small amount of bitterness creep over him. The similarity to his own life was uncanny, and he sure as hell hadn't realized that his life was a fairy tale. He thought those were supposed to have _happy _endings.

If Doumeki noticed any of these dark thoughts flitting across his face, he didn't show it. He continued to read the story with no nuance, other than the occasional attempt to deepen his voice for particularly sinister parts of the narrative.

Despite wincing when the sounds from the happy trio in front of him became too much, Watanuki had to admit that hearing Doumeki reading the parts of prince, princess, and witch was uproariously entertaining, as his expression didn't change in the slightest.

Despite his initially sour mood and still-splitting headache, there were times where Watanuki had to put his hand over his mouth to keep from laughing as Doumeki's monotone came across as anything but princess-like.

While Doumeki continued to patiently read the story with frequent outbursts from his captive audience, he couldn't help thinking that Doumeki would make a wonderful father. His children might never see him smile, might never know he was capable of laughter, but they would know that he loved them. They would know that he would protect them.

A sudden plot twist brought him out of his reverie.

"And the prince burst into the lair of the wicked witch, determined to save the princess."

"Finally—a knight in shining armor!" Mokona cried, leaping around a little on the bed.

"The witch met him at the door and said, 'are you prepared to do anything to save the princess?'

'Yes,' the prince answered. 'I will do anything to save her.'"

Watanuki smiled wistfully, thinking that the prince sounded a little like Synoran.

"'And what if this princess doesn't come to love you, even after you rescue her?' the witch cackled, preparing to kill the prince.

'It doesn't matter,' the prince answered."

Doumeki paused and met his gaze before continuing. "'I will protect her, no matter what, even if she never comes to love me.'" It felt like an eternity before he turned his unblinking gaze back to the book in front of him.

A kind of sick understanding smacked him in the face, and the rest of the story became a jumbled mess of sound as he realized that _Doumeki_ was the prince. _Doumeki_ was the one who had waited all these years. And he would have continued to wait, to protect him, even if things had never changed. Even if Watanuki had continued to keep him at arm's length.

Emotion overwhelmed him. He felt an immense sense of gratefulness—redemption, even—when he thought of the role Doumeki had played in his life. Of what Doumeki meant to him.

And, if he was honest with himself, what he hoped he meant to Doumeki. Though after his uncanny knack for screwing up...

His thoughts were interrupted by the realization that Doumeki was reading the last few paragraphs of the story.

"Even though the princess never regained her memories, she came to love her parents and the people of the castle again. Some said that she was even more loving and compassionate than before the witch had erased her memories.

She was wary of the prince at first, but came to trust him a little more each day, seeing how he gave her all he had and asked nothing in return.

Eventually, she came to love him, and knew that her memories didn't matter, so long as she had him to stand by her side. She knew that he would be strong when she was weak, and that he would allow her to do the same for him.

And on the day they married, the princess called it the first day of her life, saying that she wanted no past that the prince was not a part of.

And with that," Doumeki closed the book with a soft thud. "They lived happily ever after."

Mokona was crying loudly, using the comforter as a tissue. Partially to cover up his own feelings, he yelled at Mokona, telling him that his snack ration was reduced by half now that he had to wash the comforter _again_. This only prompted more wailing from the small creature.

"All right, all right," he said in his best genial-yet-frustrated tone, trying to push down his growing feelings of guilt for whatever had happened before his untimely 'nap.' "But just this once, alright? If I find you using any of the comforters as a tissue again, you will feel the wrath of The Great Watanuki!" A jabbing sensation in his head promptly chastised him for yelling.

He looked at Doumeki at the end of this exchange and realized a cold feeling had settled at the bottom of his stomach.

As Mokona raced out of the room shouting about wanting to be a prince, Watanuki watched Doumeki put the book into a bag.

"That was a nice story," he said, hoping that he was the only one who could hear the fierce beating in his ears.

"Mmm," Doumeki answered, buckling the bag shut.

"Where did you get it?"

"The university library. It seemed like something those three would like." He set the bag next to the bed.

"Well... thank you. It seems like they really enjoyed it."

"Don't worry about it," Doumeki said, standing up from the bed.

"I also wanted to say... sorry. I'm not exactly sure why, but I have the feeling that I was a complete ass to you a few hours ago."

Doumeki looked at him for a minute before responding. "It's alright. I understand that things will take time."

He put a hand on Watanuki's shoulder as he headed toward the door and said, "I'll wait."

He felt the calloused hand move from his shoulder and watched Doumeki leave the room, his words still hanging in the air.

He sank down to the floor, realizing just how much of a fuck-up he was to keep hurting the one person who really cared about him.

"I have to do better..." he whispered to the silence, glad that only the blank expanse of room was there to see him cry.


	5. Chapter 5

_There have been quite a few of you who have noted that the chapters always seem to end on an angsty note, so here is a chapter where it ends on a decidedly happy note. *Hooray* _

_As always, many MANY thanks to those of you who take the time to review, or who follow or favorite this story. Also, a thankful shout-out to Faren (UnexpectedInspiration) for all of her wisdom about this story. If you see this story improving, she is a big part of the reason. _

_As always, the characters are not mine. Though if they were, they would totally have a pet cat. I'm just saying. _

* * *

He walked toward the porch, overwhelmed by guilt. He shouldn't have left, but he had to; the desire to wrap Watanuki in a reassuring embrace was too powerful to ignore.

It would have only made things worse. Watanuki's skin was already paler than the translucent paper screens lining the shop, and he had visibly winced anytime words were spoken in anything other than a whisper.

Still, even with pain crawling across his features, Watanuki had been beautiful. Framed by the antiquated style of the shop and the elegant pattern of his kimono, it seemed as if he belonged in some painting or shrine, too fragile to do anything other than be admired.

The scene had awakened all-too-familiar feelings in Doumeki: passion, the need to protect, and a terrifying vulnerability. They rolled together to create a steady flame, one that had dwelled in him since the day he had met Watanuki.

That flame had never burned more brightly than last night, when he'd confessed his feelings and had them returned in kind. He'd believed that he and Watanuki could finally begin a new chapter in their lives. Erase the pain and misunderstanding and start out with a clean slate. But after today…

It hadn't been just one misunderstanding, but two. And when something went wrong between himself and Watanuki, it went _very_ wrong. Watanuki's sake blackout was only one example in an ocean of similar events. And with approximately six hours left until midnight, there was no telling what _else_ might go wrong that he could add to the growing list.

He stepped onto the porch and watched the muted sunset, trying to quiet his thoughts. Everything was beginning to take its toll. Today, the night before; they were all chipping away at his already crumbling resolve. He knew that he would do whatever it took to be strong, but he didn't want to leave Watanuki with nothing but a shell of himself in the process.

His thoughts were interrupted as a light wind rustled across the porch, quietly coaxing a silvery wind chime to life. The small tinkling sound was soon joined by the playful shouting of Mokona and the twins. It sounded like they were playing tag.

Even with the heaviness of their conversation earlier that afternoon, he still felt his mood lighten at the thought of Mokona. Larg continued to surprise him, and had been more of a friend to him than he had realized.

He didn't know if he would ever be able to forgive himself for contributing to the already heavy burden Larg carried, but he had meant what he said: he would do whatever it took to make things right again.

The only problem was knowing how.

It was times like this that he longed for the steady wisdom of his grandfather. He felt sure that his grandfather would have known what to do in this situation, or would have at least known of a place to start.

A sudden sound near the back of the garden caught his attention. He doubted it was a customer; customers usually entered at the front of the shop. Still, he could never be too careful.

He began a purposeful stride toward the soft footsteps when a delicate figure appeared from behind the bushes.

"Oh," the girl said in surprise. "Hello Doumeki." She gave a small bow, her long blonde hair shifting slightly across her shoulders.

"Hello Kohane," he responded, relieved. The last thing Watanuki could handle at the moment was dealing with a customer. He still asked for too much or too little from his customers and paid a painful price for it. Doumeki knew he had been purposely shielded from seeing the worst of these consequences, but Larg had told him enough to make his muscles clench at the thought of any customer entering the shop, no matter how unassuming they appeared.

"You're looking well," the girl said shyly. He nodded, not really sure how to respond.

"It's so strange to see you in something other than your work clothes; I almost didn't recognize you."

Again he nodded, realizing that he wasn't sure _what_ he was wearing at the moment. He had been too distracted by the day's events to pay much attention to his appearance.

"I was wondering if I could see Kimihiro."

_Kimihiro. _It struck him how intimate the name sounded.

He gave a slow nod and headed toward the shop, knowing she would follow him.

"Oh, it's okay Doumeki; I can find him. I don't want to cause you any trouble." Before he could respond she had already moved her waifish frame past him and was opening the sliding wooden screen to the house.

He stared after her a moment. He wasn't sure what it was, but there was something _different_ about Kohane today. She was always happy in her quiet way, but today she seemed almost exuberant, like she was holding in some big secret.

He heard her dainty voice call out "Kimihiro! Kimihiro!" and started to worry. Normally, Watanuki would have greeted her right away.

He reached the porch in two long strides and re-entered the shop. He started to walk toward the kitchen when he heard a worried voice cry, "Kimihiro! Kimihiro! Are you okay?"

He hurried toward Kohane's voice, a feeling of apprehension starting to creep over him. Something told him he shouldn't have left Watanuki alone after the day they'd had.

Kohane's voice was coming from the guest bedroom. He moved toward the open door, suddenly stopped by what he saw.

Watanuki's head was in Kohane's lap and he was crying. Sobbing so hard that his body shook in painful-looking spasms. Kohane was stroking his hair, telling him that everything would be alright. A mixture of horror and guilt assaulted him as he watched Kohane continue to comfort a very distraught Watanuki.

He finally worked up enough courage to enter, and sat down next to Kohane, not daring to touch Watanuki himself.

She looked up at him, her brow creased, tears glimmering in her own eyes.

"He was like this when I came in. I can't seem to comfort him. He won't even tell me what's wrong."

He looked down at the broken man in her lap, when his promise to Larg suddenly came back to him.

It was times like this that he indulged Watanuki. After watching Watanuki tear himself apart, he would then let the younger man tear _him _apart. Only it wasn't just him that Watanuki was hurting. It was Larg. The twins. Right now it was Kohane. A line had to be drawn. None of them could keep this up forever, especially if they ever wanted to move forward, to change.

"Watanuki." Despite his intentions, he heard the shakiness in his voice as he spoke. He tried again. "Watanuki." The sobbing only grew louder. He looked at Kohane and motioned for her to lay Watanuki's head back on the floor. She looked confused, but did as he asked.

When she had scooted a few feet away, he bent over Watanuki and tried to turn his face toward him. It only prompted Watanuki to curl into himself more tightly.

"Watanuki. Stop crying."

There was a small hiccup, but the crying resumed, even more loudly than before.

He took Watanuki by the shoulders and tried to pull him up from the floor. The miserable ball of pale skin and kimono refused to yield to him, still remaining tightly curled.

There was a small, "Doumeki, I think you're hurting him," from Kohane, but he couldn't stop. Not now. It took a series of small steps to achieve anything, and this would be his first step in helping not only Watanuki, but those around him, from being destroyed by his volatile emotions.

He gave a final heave until he had Watanuki sitting upright. Raven hair fell over his pinched features like he belonged in some kind of horror movie. He let out another wracking sob.

"That's enough!" He was surprised to hear himself shout.

He felt Watanuki freeze and knew he was afraid. He spoke again in a gentler tone, hoping that he could somehow reach him.

"Please, Watanuki," he said, almost in a whisper. "This needs to stop."

For the first time since entering the room, Watanuki looked out at him from red-ringed eyes.

"I know," he whispered. "But I don't know how." He looked so vulnerable, like he was a porcelain doll that would shatter at any moment.

Uncomfortably aware of the wide-eyes watching them, he wrapped his arms around Watanuki and responded, "I know. I don't either." It was the first time he had admitted to not having all the answers, and it felt freeing somehow. Like the burden wasn't all his anymore.

"We'll figure it out together," he said, sure that they really _could_ figure things out if they stopped being so divided by the pain they carried.

He received a small nod in response.

He wasn't sure how long they stayed like that, but he could tell that Kohane was still very much in the room by the soft rustling of her dress when she moved. She finally spoke, sounding bashful and unsure.

"I can come back another time, if that would be better Kimihiro." She said it breathlessly, like she wasn't sure how to interpret what she had witnessed. He felt Watanuki pull away from him and saw a watery smile spread across his face as he looked at Kohane.

"No Kohane. I would love to talk with you now. Talk to me while I cook dinner."

Doumeki could have sworn that Kohane blushed. There was definitely something she wasn't telling them. Or, more accurately, telling him.

"Okay," she said, her head bobbing a little as she looked at Watanuki.

Watanuki got to his feet and walked over to her, offering one of his slender hands to help her up off the floor.

"Princess," he said softly, like nothing strange had transpired. Kohane giggled a little as she took his outstretched hand. Doumeki felt exhasuted. He was glad to see that Watanuki was back to his more moderate self, but he was under no illusion that it would last

After helping her up, Watanuki took Kohane's arm in his and glided toward the door, his purple and gold kimono trailing behind him. He looked back toward Doumeki when he reached the doorway and said, quietly, "I'll make your favorite tonight," before disappearing into the hallway.

-0-0-0-

They had dinner an hour later, this time indoors as the summer night had turned unusually chilly. Kohane had joined them after telling her grandmother that she wouldn't be home until late. Doumeki found himself grateful for her presence, as things might have been too raw for him and Watanuki to be alone without the evening spiraling into another emotional disaster.

He listened as Kohane and Watanuki chatted comfortably. In contrast, he barely said anything, content to eat his dinner—which was indeed his favorite—and observe his two companions.

Watanuki was almost back to normal, but Kohane was still acting strange, blushing at nearly everything Watanuki said to her. He wasn't sure what to make of it, but he suddenly had a bad feeling about whatever was making Kohane so happy.

He debated saying something to her. He didn't want to make her uncomfortable, but he didn't want any harm coming to her because of her 'secret,' whatever it was. Whether Watanuki had somehow read his thoughts or had incredibly lucky timing, he chose that moment to turn toward Kohane and ask, "does Doumeki know?" The girl shook her head shyly and looked down at the table. Watanuki gave her a gentle nudge and said, "you should tell him." Her face turned a brilliant shade of pink as she clasped her hands together in nervousness.

"I..." She turned toward Watanuki with a pleading look in her eyes. "I don't think I can do it Kimihiro," she whispered.

Watanuki gave her a gentle smile and said, "it's okay: I'll do it."

No one would believe he was the same man who had been sobbing helplessly on the floor less than two hours ago. It was as if he was transformed by the opportunity to care for someone else.

He felt a small tingle run through him as he considered the idea that maybe he and Watanuki weren't so different after all. They both found their strength, their purpose, in caring for others.

"Okay…" Kohane said quietly, seeming embarrassed but relieved. She went back to looking at her hands while Watanuki turned toward him and started speaking, a hint of excitement in his voice.

"Well... Kohane now has a _boyfriend_. Isn't that wonderful?" His eyes were shining, almost as if he was the one who had just fallen head-over-heels.

Wait. A boyfriend? A fierce protectiveness tinted his gaze as he looked at Kohane. He was concerned, the sense of uneasiness he'd felt about her 'secret' intensifying. He tried to appear calm when he responded, not wanting to make her more embarrassed than she already was.

"Anyone I know?"

She nodded, the pink on her face surging up once again.

"Who is it?"

"I… can't say. Not right now. I'm sorry Doumeki. But you work at the school, and I don't want you to get in trouble for knowing and not saying anything..."

So it was a professor then. That would be the only reason she wouldn't tell him. But who was it? Someone from his department?

"Will you tell me as soon as you can?"

She nodded, her face scrunching up from what he could only assume was her happiness and guilt warring with one another.

Watanuki scooted toward her and wrapped a thin arm around her shoulder. "Hey, it's okay, alright? I'm not mad. Doumeki's not mad. You just tell us when you can, okay?" She nodded, her pale complexion nearly scarlet.

"Okay then," Watanuki continued, using a voice that broached no argument. "We're going to have dessert now, but you don't get any unless you smile, okay?" Kohane looked at him, finally producing a tentative smile.

Watanuki took her chin in his long fingers and acted as if he was doing a mock-inspection. "Hmm. Okay… you pass the test." Watanuki then turned to him. "But you… you don't get any. You're not smiling."

He shrugged, pretending not to care. "I need to get prepared for work tomorrow anyways." He started to get up from the table.

"Hey!" the younger man said, sounding incredulous. "You didn't even put up a fight. Are you telling me that you don't want my cooking?"

He straightened up and responded, a strange sense of nostalgia washing over him. This felt... familiar.

"Why fight? I'll just steal some later anyways." Watanuki stared at him with a surprised look on his face, like he was in a play but had forgotten his lines.

He quickly recovered and said, loudly, "you bastard! Just you _try_ to steal some dessert. I swear that I'll…" Watanuki's rant was interrupted by a peal of laughter from Kohane.

"I'm sorry Watanuki," she said, still giggling. "It's just been so long since I've seen the two of you this way that I'd forgotten how funny it is."

He and Watanuki looked at each other. For a moment, it was almost as if they were in high school again, him trying to steal food while Watanuki screamed at him for being a good-for-nothing. It was… nice.

Watanuki broke the silence first. "Pft. As if I'd want to waste my energy fighting with this guy anyways." He gave an indulgent wave of his hand. "Go. Have some dessert and be grateful that I have been gracious enough to bestow it upon you."

He gave a sarcastic bow and said, "I'll expect some Strawberry Daifuku tomorrow."

"Why you _bast…_" He left the room before he could hear the last of Watanuki's curses.

As he walked toward the kitchen for his dessert, he noticed something different. Not about the shop, but about himself. Though he still worried about Kohane, he felt _lighter_ somehow, like he was on summer vacation with no homework to worry about.

When he reached the kitchen he finally realized what it was. It was the _laughter_. How long had it been since he or Watanuki had laughed? The air in the shop had been so oppressive, so littered with pain and fear that it had kept any and all happiness at bay.

He felt as if he could suddenly breathe better, like their little exchange had somehow forced some of that darkness into a corner.

He knew it was only a temporary calm, but he would take it. He would take it and try to build on it until he and Watanuki could move forward, little by little, _together_.

* * *

_See, I told you it was a happy end to the chapter this time! The coming chapters will still be filled with teh' dramz, but you will certainly see a lot more of the happy DouWata.  
_


End file.
